


Addicted to Misery - Part One

by CFM (Catatonic)



Series: Addicted to Misery: A Love Letter to the Living Dead and Their Enablers [1]
Category: Pet Sematary, Re-Animator
Genre: Cats, Crossover, Death, Family, Gen, Guilt, Pets, anguish, cross-over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 13:14:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 558
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1388995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catatonic/pseuds/CFM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Introduction. Notes the basic similarites between Louis Creed and Daniel Cain</p>
            </blockquote>





	Addicted to Misery - Part One

New England. Home to a man who had killed his son, wife, and cat. That's not to mention the countless collateral casualties along the way.

New England. Home to man who had killed his fiancée and his cat (in actuality his room mate killed the cat).  That's not to mention the countless collateral casualties along the way.

Both of these men had killed something besides loved ones and neighbours. With the passing of their friends and family they also killed any hope of ever pursuing a normal course of living; a lucrative career. Not that making money or a name for yourself mattered any more, when you didn't have the woman you loved; when you didn't have so much as a clear grasp of what had actually happened, what you hoped would've happened, and what you hoped would never happen.

***

Louis Creed considered daily that fact of moving away from the Ludlow farm house. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Not yet. He could still hear the voices of his budding family as he turned in his regret soaked sheets. There were even nights where Louis could feel the love being made from his wife. Like on all the nights he had come home, drained from hospital duty, laying there motionless and letting Rachel do all the work.  The house was a part of him now. Or perhaps he was now a part of the house. Nothing had clarity. Nothing. Louis lay there; he wondered if any other one man had ever felt the pain like that he had branded into his own heart. Louis wondered if any other had ever seen death. If he had touched it. If he had both created and destroyed in the very same effort of love. Was it ever love? Thought Louis. Was it only the mad intensity brought about by the Wendigo daemon? Again. Nothing was clear any more. Nothing.

Louis had kept the blouse Rachel was wearing when she was mauled by her thing-son's scalpel. Louis' scalpel. He sometimes hugged the shirt to power himself to sleep. He gazed out the bedroom window. The Crandall home was still gone. The Crandalls were gone. No one had built on the Crandall property either. He had nothing to look forward to. There would be no more last-hour brewski. No more dinners or rocker-chair talk. The Crandalls had had _their_ last hour.  Louis turned on his back. He saw Ellie; Church was in her arms and he was a kitten.  Ellie! Ellie's still alive, and possibly well, but. . .No. Never. Ellie would live her life – Happy. At least a charade of happy. It was the least she deserved after what he had done to her brother and her mother.  Heck, to her father.  I became a monster over one Fall, he thought.  Better to think your father dead than to wish him that way. Louis shuddered and patted Church's apple head.  He cried and Ellie smiled at Church and then at Louis.  He sobbed until his under-eyes were black – until the tears had washed away the cover-up he liberally caked on his cheek bones to mask the black.  Again he pondered if ever there was a man who had struck such a blow to his own existence. Another man who had managed to soil his spot in either heaven or hell. . .


End file.
